


My Personal Snowstorm

by Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire



Series: Stories 1001 - 2000 words [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Agender Character, Agender Tyrannus Basilton ”Baz” Pitch, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz is done hiding, First Dates, Getting Together, Holding Hands, Human Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, M/M, Mummers House, Natasha Lives, POV First Person, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon confronts Baz on the lawn, SnowBaz, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow in Love, Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire
Summary: “I know you think we’re all beneath you,” Snow spits at me like venom, cornering me on my way to the library. “That’s why you don’t live in Mummers House or any of the boys’ buildings.”He's the perfect storm on a clear day, coming in and wreaking havoc on everything inside my heart. My personal Snowstorm, sweeping me off my feet. (But not in the way I would have liked him to.)Set Watford Eighth year. Simon confronts Baz and wants to know why Baz doesn't live in Mummers House.Agender Baz.
Relationships: Ebeneza "Ebb" Petty & Simon Snow, Malcolm Grimm & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Natasha Grimm-Pitch & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Stories 1001 - 2000 words [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100996
Comments: 28
Kudos: 97





	My Personal Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader. I hope you will enjoy this angst with happy ending one-shot. 💙  
>   
> As always so many thanks and love to my amazing friends and betas Blue ([mybluebucketofsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/pseuds/mybluebucketofsnow)) and [shushu_yaoi_lj (llamapyjamas)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj). 💙
> 
> * * *

# BAZ

“I know you think we’re all beneath you,” Snow spits at me like venom, cornering me on my way to the library. “That’s why you don’t live in Mummers House or any of the boys’ buildings.”

He's the perfect storm on a clear day, coming in and wreaking havoc on _everything_ inside my heart. My personal Snowstorm, sweeping me off my feet. (But not in the way I would have liked him to.)

This conversation isn't what I was expecting today, I'm not sure I'm prepared to deal with his accusations.

I know what they all think. I've heard people talk behind my back (they weren't discrete).

I swallow and try to concentrate on Snow _instead_.

His cheeks start to burn. His tawny skin — the fairest shade of gold — looks beautiful when flushed. It brings out the blue in his eyes.

My own skin is stark-reddish gold. I can pull off wearing purple better than most people at school. (Which just happens to be a part of our uniform. Thank snakes for small miracles of fashion when my love life is in shambles.)

I’m watching the flush spreading to his neck. Wishing I could kiss it and _him_. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights imagining doing just that.

Us in bed _together_ , pressed flush, skin on skin.

He’s giving me his patented scowl. Snow reserves it for me alone.

”Just because your mum is a legend, doesn't mean you are one,” he continues, furious, clenching his fist, the smell of his magic spreading like wildfire.

”I don't think that about myself,” I argue despite my better judgement.

”Yeah right,” he growls at me, his eyes flash something I'm not sure I understand, ”then why do you not live in Mummers House then?”

Why is he even bringing this up? It’s our last year at school. (Besides, I already know he despises me, he doesn’t have to rub it in.)

I try not to let him get to me. But I think maybe I’ve had enough. It _is_ our last year after all. I might as well speak my truth.

 **The truth will set you free** is a spell for a reason. I myself prefer **On love’s light wings**.

I’ve cast it once to get to the top of the tower — his window. I was planning to ask him out by doing something _romantic_.

What can I say, while most youths were reading Twilight or whatever utterly ridiculous book there is about teenage love, I've spent my nights crying to Shakespeare.

(That was when I still believed I had a chance with Snow.)

Snow wasn't alone though. Bunce was with him. They were dancing. I never knocked on his window and cried my eyes out in my room that evening.

In hindsight, I'm fairly sure Bunce was just teaching him how to dance. But when I tried approaching him weeks later, it did not go well and he called me an _arrogant_ _bastard_.

My social skills are lacking, to say the least. And Snow is full of hatred towards me anyway.

Despite the fact that fire can't hurt me, Snow turned out to be the _only_ flame that can bring me down and incinerate me completely.

And yet, I keep watching him, wanting him, loving him from afar. At the very least I've come to terms with never having a chance with Simon. I suppose that's still _something_.

I take a deep breath, before confessing my greatest secret.

“I can’t enter the boys’ buildings,” I say, trying not to cower under his clear disdain towards me. And then I add just to be more clear. “Because of the gender barrier.”

There, I said it. For the first time ever.

Mum is the only one who knows. (I live in one of the spare rooms that she has at school.)

Father knows too, in a way, but he doesn’t really understand. He keeps saying that Watford has a design flaw and that it needs to be fixed _magickally_.

I just hope he doesn’t think that _I_ need to be fixed magickally.

There’s nothing wrong with me. That’s what Mum kept telling me when I was younger.

“It’s okay, little puff, you’ll be alright,” was what she said when she found me crying and I told her.

It was the summer before I was about to start Watford.

Mum tried to remove the gender barrier on all the buildings. But the Coven put a stop to it.

“Boys and girls should not share a dormitory,” they said.

Not even Mitali Bunce took her side, despite the fact that she broke the gender barrier to Mummers while in school. (Just so she could sneak in to see her boyfriend.)

I didn't want Mum to break it for me when she offered. It felt like a lie.

Snow looks at me confused.

“But Mummers House is for boys.”

“I know,” I reply as calmly as I can.

His eyes lift up to my face, my eyes. I don’t look away, holding his gaze. I’m done hiding.

“And you’re a boy,” he states with conviction. Except he’s wrong.

“I’m not a boy,” I argue and it’s both freeing and frightening to say it out loud.

In the middle of a lawn, where anyone can hear it. Where Snow is currently standing and watching me with more confusion and hopefully _not_ loathing.

His hand goes up to his neck and he rubs it. He’ll leave a mark if he keeps doing it.

I try not to think about what kind of mark I’d leave on his neck with my mouth.

_Get a grip on yourself, Tyrannus Basilton._

Snow stops bothering his neck, his fingers shift upwards to his curls and I watch him tug at them mercilessly.

“Are you…” he pauses then, but his eyes are still locked with mine, “a girl?”

“No,” I answer truthfully, “I’m neither.”

I wonder what he’ll say now. What will be his reaction?

Snow is still looking at me. That’s something I suppose.

But he’s gone quiet and I start wondering if I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

It would have been better to let him think that I turn my nose on all of them because my mum is a headmistress and be done with it. It is not that difficult to be hated for something one is _not_. It’s easy to get used to it.

But hated for being _me_. Well, that is possibly the best recipe for a heart broken into a million pieces.

Especially if the person you’re in love with is the one doing the hating. The person you want the most. The person you dream about kissing every night.

“I’m sorry Baz,” he finally speaks, whispers really, still not looking away. “I didn’t know.”

“No harm was done,” is all I can say, trying to brush the significance of this conversation off, and failing miserably. “No one knows except for my family.”

Snow smiles then, a wide grin, filled with joy for some reason. I try smiling back, even though it’s difficult and I'm utterly overwhelmed.

I wonder if he’ll know that I’m in love from the way I smile at him?

“Does it mean you trust me?” he suddenly asks, out of nowhere, ”Since you told me.”

“I do,” I confess, possibly too shocked and relieved by our exchange.

 _I also trust you to break my heart one day too_ , I think but don’t say.

The day I tell Snow I love him, he’ll let me down easily (probably easily) and I will be left with nothing but my heart ripped to shreds.

Because there is no chance he’ll feel the same.

Snow is as straight as they come. And I am _more_ _queer_ than most people can handle. (I’ve already come to terms with that fact back in fifth year.)

After I speak, his smile changes into something else. Something _unreadable_.

“Um— Baz…do you want to…maybe…if you want to that is...” he stammers and I have no idea what this is about, “I mean… Do you want to go to the cinema... with me...this weekend?”

It is me who is speechless this time. What is this?

Have I misheard or dreamed it up? (My brain is capable of coming up with the most ridiculous unlikely scenarios.)

“Like a date?” I manage to say, my heart is beating faster than ever.

 _Is_ this a dream? Or is this hell? Have I already died?

“Yes, I mean if you want to that is.” Snow is blushing more _now_ than when he was furious mere moments ago. The smell of his magic is coming down, only some traces left. He really is not angry anymore.

Snow has gone completely scarlet and he swallows nervously.

How could this possibly be a reality? I don’t second guess it. Instead, I give Simon a _real smile_ in return.

“I do,” I say and try to be bold. “I did for a while.”

I am not going to tell him that _a while_ is in fact practically seven years.

“Yeah?” He grins again and bites on his bottom lip. “So did I.”

“I thought you hated me,” my stupid mouth speaks without permission.

“I didn’t,” he mumbles, his eyes yet to leave mine, ”I just thought you didn’t want to share a room with me because I’m from an orphanage and live with Ebb and the goats each summer.”

Mum arranged that. Ebb doesn’t have any children of her own and she didn’t mind taking in a child with volatile magic.

There's plenty of room that open nature provides to go off with magic, which admittedly he only ever did once. Simon is happy with Ebb and is cared for.

“My father is a farmer, you know,” I tell him because no one seems to understand this at school. “He works with magickal creatures.”

“He is?” Snow exclaims, his eyes sparkle with _pure_ excitement. ”I love magickal creatures.”

“I could teach you how to care for them if you want,” I offer and am still a bit terrified.

Have I scared him off already with my overeagerness?

“Maybe for our second date?” he whispers while his hand reaches for mine.

I take it and squeeze it lightly. He laces our fingers together and my heart skips a beat.

“That would be lovely, Simon.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 💙


End file.
